


In the Clearing

by anodyne80



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 16:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19255186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyne80/pseuds/anodyne80
Summary: Vietnam-era story, set in an NVA prison camp.





	In the Clearing

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains adult language and references to torture, but the action itself isn't graphic. Originally on fanfiction.net.

He could never decide which was worse, the fear or the boredom. Hannibal could hide his fear from the three men he commanded -- he had to, in fact, if he ever hoped to see them all out of there -- and hiding it from the others helped him to push it to the back of his own mind. But none of them, not even Hannibal, could escape the boredom. If someone had held his hand to the fire and made him choose, he would have said that he'd take fear over boredom any day. Fear, much as it threatened to cripple Colonel Smith's team, at least motivated them. The sameness of every hour, on the other hand, couldn't be turned away, and tortured everyone in the prison camp.

The rainy season had just begun, making the usual monotony of the days even more pronounced. Captain H.M. Murdock, the team's pilot, sat against a wall of the cramped bamboo hut that housed the four of them. He rested his arms on his knees, looking up at the thatched roof and humming absently.

"Man, would you shut up?" Sergeant Bosco Baracus threw down the boot lace he'd been trying to fix. "You've been singing that same damn song for near a half hour now. It's bad enough without listening to your damn hit parade."

"I'm not singing, B.A.," said Murdock. "I'm humming."

The Sergeant stood up, flexing his considerable muscle. "Whatever you want to call it, fool."

"Lay off, will you, B.A.?" Templeton Peck, the youngest of the four men on Smith's team, stopped the pacing he had kept up almost continuously since daybreak. "I'd rather listen to him humming than you sniping at him right now." Face, as the men had nicknamed him the lieutenant, was not only handsome enough to turn heads, but had an honest and innocent air that he used to con unlikely supplies from multinational marks across southeast Asia. In the Special Forces for just over a year, he was already a legend for somehow conjuring up a late-model Chevy just outside of Da Nang. He often tried to act as peacemaker when Murdock and B.A. had one of their frequent arguments, but today, fatigue roiled his normally calm surface.

B.A. whipped around toward Face and started to speak, but Colonel Smith interrupted him. "All of you, shut the fuck up," he said. Hannibal rarely swore at his men -- he didn't have to -- and they looked startled. "If I were interested in listening to a bunch of children bickering with each other, I'd have Face scam me a TV so I could watch Leave It To Beaver. Now knock it off."

B.A. began to answer, but Hannibal quickly turned his head toward the door and motioned for him to be quiet. The men heard footsteps coming toward the hut. Fear streaked through Face's eyes, gone almost as soon as it came.

The door opened and a group of four NVA soldiers entered. Hannibal moved toward the door so that he was standing close to the group's commanding officer, who had been the first one into the hut. The man studied him with an air of wry amusement for a few seconds before looking around the hut. Fixing his gaze on Hannibal again, he gave an order to his men. Two of them pushed past the colonel to walk toward Murdock, who was still sitting on the ground with his arms resting on his knees. The soldiers picked him up too abruptly for him to stand properly, and they dragged him toward the door.

"Don't worry," said Murdock over his shoulder. "I'm sure they'll have me back in time for dinner. Keep a plate warm for me."

The commanding officer gave Hannibal a last sardonic glance and left the hut, followed by the fourth soldier.

The remaining three members of Smith's team stood in silence. Hannibal could hear that the soldiers hadn't taken Murdock far. He knew that there was a clearing around 25 yards away, and it sounded to him as though they had thrown Murdock to the ground there.

Hannibal and his men heard the commanding officer speaking loudly, followed by a softer voice, and then, faintly, Murdock, stating his name, rank, serial number, and date of birth. Hannibal braced himself, waiting for the inevitable next step that the soldiers would take when they knew for certain that Murdock didn't intend to give up any information.

The voices stopped. The air went silent, but it was thick with a tension that Hannibal couldn't quite put his finger on. And then Murdock cried out, his voice carrying an added edge of pain and fright that Hannibal had never heard from him before, even during the worst of the beatings that their captors had administered. Laughter, and then rhythmic clapping and cheering, arose from the clearing. 

In an instant, the colonel understood the tension he had sensed. He bowed his head and swallowed hard to keep nausea from overtaking him. 

Face drew in a quick, unsteady breath and turned to the colonel. "Hannibal?" Smith continued to stand quietly, listening for another sound, but he didn't answer Face or meet his gaze.

Murdock cried out again. The sound was weaker than the first time, and abruptly turned into sharp, dry sobs.

B.A. cursed under his breath and smashed his hand into the wall. He quickly turned away from Hannibal and Face, his head down, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Fuck." Face grabbed the Colonel's arm so hard that Smith winced from the force of the grip. "Hannibal, they're..."

Hannibal spoke sharply. "You don't have to explain to me what they're doing, Lieutenant." He looked in the direction of the clearing, straining to see even though he knew that the jungle would reveal nothing. 

"Jesus, Hannibal." Face's voice had a pleading tone.

"We'll take care of him when they bring him back," Hannibal said after a few moments had passed. He finally turned to his junior officer, who was still holding his arm. "Same as we always do."

"This isn't the same, goddamn it."

Hannibal didn't answer. Face looked into his eyes for a few seconds, but found no reassurance there. He let go of Hannibal and sat on the ground, putting his head in his arms.

Twilight fell. Hours had passed since the soldiers took Murdock into the clearing.

Two of the young soldiers walked toward the hut, carrying Murdock by his arms and legs. The commanding officer opened the door and said something to his two subordinates. The younger men crossed to the wall farthest from the door and dropped Murdock on his back onto the dirt floor. Blood and earth were mixed together on his face.

The commanding officer gave a barking laugh and looked at Hannibal, examining his face for any sign of defiance. But Hannibal's attention was fixed on the battered pilot lying semi-conscious on the dirt floor. Seeing no sign of provocation, the officer laughed again and left the hut, followed by one of the young soldiers.

The second young soldier, though, lingered for a few seconds more, looking down at the man he had just carried into the hut. Hannibal tried to divine the expression on the soldier's face, but the falling dark obscured it. The young man's gaze flicked from Murdock to the colonel, and Hannibal thought for a moment that he might speak, but the commanding officer called out sharply. The soldier cast his eyes downward. He turned and followed his commander along the pathway.

Face was next to Murdock in an instant, falling to his knees next to his friend. "Hey, buddy." He reached out to Murdock, putting his hand on the pilot's chest and leaning in to speak. "Let's get you . . ." He never finished the sentence. Murdock, his eyes only half-focused, smashed his fist solidly into Face's temple, knocking him sideways onto the ground. 

Face looked more shocked than hurt. He took a few seconds to regain his composure, but got up and knelt next to Murdock again, reaching over to clean the pilot's face with his sleeve.

"Stand down, Lieutenant," said Hannibal.

Face stared at Hannibal, his arm in mid-air. "You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious. I need to be alone with him. Now stand down," said Hannibal again. Face hesitated, still on his knees near Murdock.

"I don't want to have to give you the order again, Lieutenant," said Hannibal. He returned his Lieutenant's hard stare, but after a few moments, his eyes softened. "I know you want to help him, Face. But he can't have a crowd around him after . . . ." He paused. "And for him, two's a crowd right now. You need to give me some time."

"Come on, little brother," said B.A. He pulled gently on Face's shoulder. "Let's leave them alone. It'll only be for a while."

Face brought his hand up to his mouth and held it there a moment before dropping it and nodding. "Okay." He stood up, watching Murdock as he rose, and let B.A. lead him away. B.A. spoke softly to Face, laying his arm across the young man's shoulders.

Hannibal sat next to Murdock and gently pulled the pilot into his lap, taking care not to drag him along the ground. Murdock's eyes seemed to slowly regain focus. He bit his lip, trying to stay quiet, but even so, gave a whimper of pain.

"It's all right," said Hannibal. "It's all right now."

"Colonel . . . Hannibal . . . ." Murdock's voice trailed off into a weak cough. "Christ, you don't . . ." He put his hand up against Hannibal's chest, trying to push himself away. 

"I've got you, Murdock. It's okay -- I'm not letting you go, I promise. I know what happened, and I'm not letting you go," said Hannibal. He smoothed Murdock's hair back from his eyes.  

Murdock grew still, looking up at the man holding him. He coughed again, and steadied his breath with an effort. "Colonel . . . " he closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then opened them to look at Hannibal. "I didn't tell them anything."

Hannibal gave him a faint smile. "I know you didn't, Captain. You did us proud. You always do."

Murdock shifted his weight back toward Hannibal. "'Course, that's because I don't know a damn thing." He tried to laugh, but the effort made him gasp in pain. Hannibal tightened his arms around the injured man, rocking him gently, as he would a hurt child. "You'll be all right, son," said Hannibal. "Try to rest."

Murdock caught his breath again and closed his eyes. "That's it," said Hannibal. "Just rest now." Murdock gradually relaxed, his breathing growing deep and steady. After a few minutes, Hannibal knew that he had fallen asleep.  

Still holding Murdock, Hannibal did what he could to clean the captain's dirt-smeared face. Wiped away the blood with his fingers. Smoothed the matted hair back again. And then let his tears fall.

****  
  



End file.
